


Just needs more time

by oswinosgoodsscarf



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, What if Lydia had died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27279976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oswinosgoodsscarf/pseuds/oswinosgoodsscarf
Summary: What if Beetlejuice was never on the roof? A look into how Charles would cope (or, well, wouldn't).
Relationships: Charles Deetz & Lydia Deetz, Charles Deetz/Delia Deetz, Charles Deetz/Emily Deetz
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Just needs more time

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh so yeah! Pretty heavy stuff, read with care please! Also did not really proofread, so I apologize for any typos. Thanks to my friends for coming up with the idea and cheering me on lol

_**"I WISH I WAS DEAD"** _

Lydia's words rang in his ear, hoarse and accusing and desperate, filling every crevice of his study, echoing across papers and clutter and time. Charles gripped his coffee mug harder, knuckles white on the ceramic, trying to ignore his trembling hands. The pen in his right hand shook, and eventually he threw it down, giving up on the form he was working on. Glancing at the clock, he grimaced. Another missed meal. Delia wouldn't be pleased.

He sighed, standing up and trudging into the kitchen for more coffee, passing small mountains of boxes on his way. The idea of unpacking _again_ made him grimace, but there was little else he could do to fight against the inevitable tedium of unpacking. At least there were fewer boxes this time around, having been forced to sell some of the furniture.  
Buying two houses in quick succession of each other had definitely strained his finances.

So had two funerals.

Not for the first time, Charles prayed for an afterlife, where he could see his family again (a small part of his brain, seeped in myrrh and a preacher's steady drone, reminded him suicide automatically barred a spoul from entering heaven and his heart broke a little more).

All he'd wanted was to build a new life. But now there was no one to live in it with him; the cost of building had been too high.

Now, he was constantly reminded of his losses; before, Delia's love of eccentric patterns was a far cry from Emily's restrained, darker choices. In this house, Lydia's voice constantly snarked about the wallpaper, the art, the furniture. Everywhere he looked, he imagined her complaints, and wondered how close his imagination was to what she actually would have said.

A small hand resting on his shoulder snapped Charles back to reality with a jolt. His "new" coffee stood cooling in the mug he'd apparently poured it into.  
He turned to Delia and tried to smile. Judging by the look on her face, he failed.  
Grabbing his wrist, she carefully steered him into a chair by the table and set about making him a new mug, pouring out the cole beverage as she went. A plate of sandwiches appeared in front of him. Charles reached for them mechanically.

Delia watched him over the rim of her own cup and struggled to make conversation. Lydia had been difficult, yes, but at least she'd respond with snark. Charles...  
"I unpacked the living room today! The bookshelves are finally up, along with the books that I think you wanted in there, but I'm not sure how you want the knick-nacks to be set up. Could you help me tomorrow with them?"

A shrug.

"W-Well, I know you probably have work to do... Um, the groccery store was _packed_ today, and you wouldn't believe the gall of some of these people! Not as bad as most of the people in Winter River - some people just let their money go to their heads, i think - but you should have seen how one of the other customers treated one of the workers! You would've been furious!"

He nodded vaguely.

"Oh, but I did manage to get some more lemon water. I didn't get more coffee beans, I think we need to cut down our caffeine intake and cleanse our bodies for a while, get our energies flowing unblocked again."

Another shrug.

At some point Delia gave up, watching her fiancé woodenly consume what was in front of him. She thought of the man who would do ridiculous, spontanous things for her and Lydia, the energy he had when he was cajoled into letting loose for a moment, and how that light, already dimmed by the death of Emily, seemed to disappear after Lydia... passed. The Charles of the present seemed worlds away from the man of a few weeks ago, and her heart ached at the change.

Charles knew he was being being difficult, but the thought of playing at normal was exhausting.  
A stab of guilt made itself known as he thought of all the times he'd asked the same from Lydia.

He blinked, and the sandwiches were gone and Delia was tugging him into their bedroom. Honestly, sleep was the last thing on his mind bespite his exhaustion. No matter how much he slept, he still woke up bone tired, But work stopped for no man, and after all the expenses of the last year (after all the days he couldn't make it to the office, official or home), he really needed to get back to his paperwork.  
An idea Delia was having none of, as she blocked his escape route and fixed him with a stern look.

"Love, you've been working too hard. You _need to relax._ You won't be able to get anything productive done in this state. Better to just sleep on it, and finish it up tomorrow morning, OK?"

She played with his collar, and spoke next with a softer tone.

"And take more breaks tomorrow too, please? Don't think I didn't notice you skipped lunch. I... I worry about you, Charles."

He kissed her cheek before shrugging out of work clothes and into his sleepwear.

"I'll try, Delia."

Charles' efforts were rewarded   
In bed, he curled up into Delia's arms, closing his eyes and pulling her closer, trying to block out the insidious, awful thoughts now clamouring for attention. If Emily had been the one alive, this never would have happened. He should have payed more attention, should've gone after Lydia. Been more overbearing and less overbearing.... he should have talked to her, _r_ _eally_ talked with her when he had the chance.

In the dark, head tucked into the crook of Delia's neck, it was easier to communicate.

"I just wish I could have her back."

Unbeknownst to Charles, Delia's heart clenched, unsure of who, exactly, he was pleading for. She held him tighter, stroking his hair and whispering comforting nothings into his ear and told the heavy pit in her stomach that she was enough for the man she loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you... enjoyed? this story. Please feel free to leave kudos of a comment if you did!


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